


let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food

by anthonvstrk (theravvenstag)



Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Child Abuse, Eating Disorders, Emotional neglect, Gen, Tony Stark has a complicated relationship with food, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, unhealthy eating habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:30:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7106863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theravvenstag/pseuds/anthonvstrk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Looking at it made Tony sick.</i><br/> <br/> <i>He felt that sick a lot. When he was looking at something that he had to eat, but he didn't want to. He couldn't, he couldn't touch the stuff that made his stomach turn and something big and heavy force its way up his throat-</i></p>
<p> <i>"I'm not hungry." He choked out.</i></p>
<p> <br/>Tony Stark and his relationship with food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally inspired by a post that you can find here. However it spiraled off into something a bit different. 
> 
> Despite the heavy subject, I didn't choose a mature rating because I think it would misrepresent what I've written slightly. This isn't hurt/comfort, nor is it necessarily pessimistic, what Tony does is unhealthy yes, but this fic will focus more on the development and progression of Tony's mindset rather than purely emotional turmoil. 
> 
> I have more written so far and there is still more I would like to add, so I'm hoping posting this will give the motivation I need to work through it.
> 
> (Also, a note in the fantom tags, the work is set predominantly in the MCU, however it contains elements of 616's characterisation of Howard Stark.)
> 
> This work is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> ***
> 
> Please take heed of the tags, this fic does deal with unhealthy eating habits. 
> 
> They don't resemble any disorder I know, which is why I haven't tagged anything specifically, but rather my own experiences from childhood. If they do happen to resemble anything you guys know of please tell me and I will tag accordingly. Additionally if there is anything that I have missed please let me know so I can fix that.
> 
> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> ***

"Tony?" Maria Stark called in her sweet voice, "Aren't you going to eat your pasta?"

Tony looked up at his mother and then back down at his plate. She only used her sweet voice when he had done something wrong in front of her friends. But Tony only saw her in front of her friends, so he didn't hear it a lot. He felt his cheeks heat up under the weight of her stare but couldn't bring himself to answer her.

The stuff on his plate was green and lumpy and smelled a bit like walnuts. Oil was everywhere and it had run into little pools between the mountains of sludge Tony had formed on his plate. Looking at it made Tony sick.

He felt that sick a lot. When he was looking at something that he had to eat, but he didn't want to. He couldn't, he couldn't touch the stuff that made his stomach turn and something big and heavy force its way up his throat-

"I'm not hungry." He choked out, keeping his head down. The lump dropped with a swooping feeling to the bottom of his stomach. He knew what was coming. 

The table fell silent. Tony glanced up to see his mother smiling at him with strained eyes.

"But Chef Alonzo made it specially for us." She explained, soft and low. "You wouldn't want to be rude and refuse his now, would you dear?" She punctuated this with the curling of her perfectly manicured claws and Tony flinched.

Chef Alonzo chuckled nervously. "It's really no problem." He shrugged, tilting a head towards Tony. "I know how kid-"

"Nonsense." Howard's voice boomed across the table. The word was low and charged and the silence grew dangerously weighted. No one wanted to argue with a man like Howard Stark. And now his eyes on Tony felt like a hammer on his skull. "Tony is going to sit there and eat his dinner and learn how not to be a spoiled brat." That drew a few stilted laughs from the ‘important guests’. "Isn't that right boy?"

Tony struggled to force his breath through the lump in his throat. He managed to nod.

"Good." Came the gruff reply. The sound of crystal hitting the table cut through the nervous shuffling of the adults being herded by into the billiards room. He was too far away tonight but Tony could have imagined the whiskey on his father's breath and silently thanked god for their guests. 

Tony's shoulders dropped when he heared the lock turn in the door. His small frame still shook slightly from exhaustion, but he didn't move to pick up his fork. He didn't move at all.

Maybe if he waited they'd forget. Maybe if he waited until they go to bed. Maybe then he could eat the rice Jarvis kept in the fridge for him instead, or just go to bed hungry if he must. Maybe.

So Tony settled down into his chair and waited, his mind conjuring up an adventure more satisfying than the gunk left on his plate. 

He fell into an old routine: The Amazing World of Captain America and The Howling Commandos. In this world he could be a hero. In this world he could be useful. Captain America always liked his designs and they always saved the day on their missions. Everything they did was good and honourable, and Tony was one of them, so he was that stuff too. They had rations of cheeseburgers and milkshakes and laughed and joked around the campfire. It didn't matter if there was a war on, because they were happy and they would win.

The fantasy wrapped around him like a soft blanket, blocking out the icy dining room and the jarring sounds of a party floating in distantly.

Tony sat there for hours, lost in his head, before the last car pulled away and the oak doors were flung the open. Howard loomed in the doorway, glassy eyed and angry. His eyes locked on Tony’s and before he knew it the smell of stale whiskey in his face and his noose of a collar, clenched in Howard’s fist, began to make his eyes water.

Just like that the cold atmosphere of the room was back and he couldn't stop the shiver that racked his body. Tony desperately tried to keep his breath even. After all, he knew what was coming.

Tony ate the sludge. He ate it in forkfuls shoved into his trembling mouth, by large hands unsympathetic of the sobs and retching of a sissy little boy.

When he finished throwing it all up into his bathroom sink he cried again. It was painful, the hurling. It smelled and made his stomach clench, but worst part was the few agonising seconds when the sick blocked his throat and made it feel like he was drowning. 

Tony didn't bother Jarvis though. He was sure he could be better. Next time it happened, he was sure. He would keep his head up and strengthen his will. He had to work, until he was sure he was a man to be proud of. He had to work, until he could swallow whatever life put in front of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to comment and cristise, I would love to hear what you have to say.
> 
> If you would like to talk about meta or Tony Stark (or both) you can contact me on both tumblr and twitter @anthonvstrk.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
